To say I am real would be utterly false,

Like a fairytale, I am factually fallacious,

To say I exist would be to call yourself stupid

because by scientists’ standards I am unproven and fictitious.

People would say without me you’d be lonely,

but in reality, without me, you’d be free.

The shackles I give to those who believe,

are eventually what puts them 6 feet deep.

We live in a world where some glasses are still half full,

drink those glasses because I have news to spill.

You can not see me, touch me or hear me,

smell me or taste me its all the same pastry.

I bring pain I bring pleasure yet no one can decide,

how to define what makes my insides.

Look at yourself and consider me this,

are you a thousand percent sure I’m not just a myth?

People claim to make decisions based on their faith in me,

should I tell them it’s misplaced and to reconsider factually?

But who am I to say how confused you must be when you figure out my name it’ll all be the same.

You may argue

You may disagree

I honestly don’t care.

But love is a fairytale and I’m not actually here.

Love, love